Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

there is no sadness like my own
it passes from my heart
through my fingers, words
cascade, a waterfall
tears without moisture
dessicated, only
the salt remains

no voice but my own
i'm tired of its accent
it bounces and ricochets
mocks me, maudlin
it curses tourette
what i could've said
idle speculations
no vowels left
in my repertoire

the past reveals the present
the present, the past
an oracle of memory
split decisions
misinterpretations
there were prophesies
that toppled empires
a kingdom lost,
cassandra knew, but
knowing means nothing
in a world reeling

tonight, tomorrow
there is no sadness like my own

beautiful, dinoccho!

yes, there is never any sadness which could compare to our own ... your heart is so tender .... your poetry so heartfelt

when you are sad, i am sad with you
when you are joyful, i will feel your joy

keep writing, my friend, and i'll keep reading
i guarantee it

your reply means much to me doreen. thank you for your kindness.